Arm Wrestling For Our Lives

As our collective consciousness was recently focused on the themes of
depression, suicide and suicide prevention, I wish to express what many of us in
our community know: LGBTQ+ people are at an increased risk for dying by suicide.
Along the same lines: Here’s my story of self-destruction, spiritual obedience
and renewal, which I share with the intention of inspiring others to also break
down stigma. As we speak up and share out, we collectively dissolve stigma
related to mental health, mental illness and everything in between.
Additionally, I wish to instill hope in those who have experienced a suicide
attempt and/or an aborted suicide attempt. Recovery is possible.

BACKGROUND

Raised in a family that was immersed in a conservative, faith-based culture, I
struggled with many secret questions related to my sexual orientation.
Ironically, it didn’t help that my gender identity and expression were about as
cisgender as it gets…I
looked like the other girls; why couldn’t I truly be like them? An
ongoing life narrative of almost belonging
(yet not quite belonging), emerged and took shape. From the ages of 18 to 20, I
arm wrestled for my life – barely sleeping, often not eating, struggling day in
and day out – with depression. Finally, feeling worn down from the fight against
a cognitive distortion that told me I was a burden to my family, I started
giving in. Little by little, I stopped fighting as hard. I incrementally stopped
using my boxing gloves. Didn’t want them anymore, especially since I was never
asked if I wanted them in the first place. Soon after, I was sent home from my
college of choice on a “mental health leave,” with my academic mentor trusting
that downtime would help me to regain perspective.

THE ATTEMPT

In a disturbing crescendo of events, I found myself very much alone a few months
post my 20th birthday. This was prior to “coming out” to loved ones, and prior
to even fully coming out to myself. With my will to fight still wearing thin and
a shroud of stigma clouding my internal vision, I experienced an aborted suicide
attempt. What in the world is that? “An aborted attempt” is a clinical term that
means that a person took concrete steps to end their life, and then took steps
to reverse any damage done. In my case, I took action to self-harm (an unusual
move for me, as growing up I wasn’t one to self-harm), and as I was about to go
further, I changed course.

THE VOICE

What made me stop? I heard that “still, small voice” – that I identify as God’s
voice – speak to me. Yes, folks, I heard it. (And that’s part of why I love God
to the best of my ability to this day.) When I heard “the voice,” it wasn’t an
instruction coming from the outside, which could have been an auditory
hallucination. Rather, the message consisted of personal words coming from
within me; the words were calmer than my swirling emotions. These unforgettable
words prompted me to stop hurting myself.

Generally, when I heard from God in the past, it came after engaging in prayer –
what I call “contemplation time.” However, on that unique day, I wasn’t in a
prayerful state – to say the least; yet, God knew I was in a
vulnerable state and God demonstrated mercy. To this day, I
consider hearing “the voice” at that moment a huge outpouring of mercy. And
although it wasn’t the result of prayer work in that moment, perhaps it was the
fruit of a young life steeped in prayer since my earliest years. I’ve heard of
cases where God intervened when someone was about to die before their time, so I
don’t think I’m special. I do believe that God generally speaks to those whom he
knows will be receptive. And God knew I would be receptive. His interjection
didn’t violate the law of free will, which he honors. Most of the time, it’s:
“Ask and ye shall receive.” This time, it was: “Act and I’ll set you free.”
Honestly, this phenomenon was and is mysterious. I didn’t talk about it for
years because I felt guilty. I felt guilty that others finding themselves in the
same place as I’d been in hadn’t heard “the voice,” and went through with the
suicidal act. I won’t pretend to understand it, yet I cannot conceal what
happened to me any longer.

THE RESCUE

In the moment after hearing from God, I was immediately receptive. I stopped
poisoning myself, called for help and went to the bathroom to throw up as much
of the poison as I could. I still needed to be rushed to the emergency room,
where I spent time getting my stomach pumped and rehabilitating. It was a
nightmare which I’m committed to never repeat. The wonderful outcome is that due
to God’s grace, paired with my efforts in both secular and pastoral counseling,
I haven’t wrestled with suicidal ideation since then.

THE FACTS

As I came out and came of age in the LGBTQ+ community, I learned that I was not
alone with my struggles. I wish that I was more alone
in this regard, yet that’s just not true. According to the Trevor Project, “LGB
youth are almost five times as likely to have attempted suicide compared to
heterosexual youth.” (thetrevorproject.org/resources) Statistics related to
suicidality and transgender youth are often more devastating. The self-loathing
that led to my experience of circumstantial, major depressive disorder is still
common among our youth. We’ve seen recently how wrestling for our lives is too
common in both the LGBTQ+ community and society in general. Irrespective of a
person’s sexual orientation, gender identity and/or gender expression, suicide
is a real issue for so many. Depression, regardless of its causes, hurts and if
left untreated, it can be deadly.

GIVING BACK

On a victorious note, last year I trained to become a suicide prevention and
intervention specialist. I offer free Question, Persuade and Refer (QPR)
classes, as an aspect of my work with the Suicide Prevention Council (in the
County of San Diego). QPR Gatekeeper Training for Suicide Prevention is an
evidence-based, nationally recognized curriculum, which instructs class
participants in how to look for suicide warning signs and appropriately
intervene. Now, I reach out to the public; I offer these classes as part of a
secular ministry geared toward being pro-living. Regardless of where we fall on
the political spectrum and irrespective of how we feel about women’s
reproductive rights, we can all agree
on preserving the life that’s already walking, living and breathing among us.

CALL TO ACTION

During these tumultuous times, let’s nip what therapists call “suicide
contagion” in the bud. Let’s write, post, chat and otherwise speak out about
mental illness and its repercussions in our communities. Part of that
mobilization might include inviting a speaker who specializes in suicide
prevention to your place of worship or community center, such as a Pride
Resource Center at your local university. Perhaps consider training to become a
QPR instructor yourself! Part of generating the true spirit of Pride is keeping
ourselves and our vulnerable community safe. For more details, visit qprinstitute.com.

If you or a loved one is considering suicide, please reach out to the 24/7
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Your life is worth the fight.
1-800-273-TALK (8255)